A little Thanksgiving poetry as times they are a changin’

Twas the day ‘fore Thanksgiving

And all through the house

Stink was ticking acutely

Like a video game mouse

His mother was worried

It seemed too much to bear

With housecleaning and shopping

(Let’s not talk of her hair!)

It hadn’t been cut

In three months … maybe more

Plus the pit bull had puked

On the living room floor

Between frets about job hunts

And descending in-laws

It dawned on this mama

That there was a flaw

Maybe she didn’t need to worry so much

Perhaps on herself she was being too tough?

A big bit of crazy talk stuck her head

“Maybe … just maybe … I mean

Maybe… instead

God isn’t interested in a few tics and twitches”

Is it possible he’s telling her the secret to riches

Isn’t focusing much longer on a wonky condition

That if left to her brain, would cause nothing but bitchin?

“Is it possible,” says God, “That you’re meant for some writing

That’s a bit more uplifting… a lot more exciting?”

I’m starting to think, folks

I’m over Tourettes

I’m not over YOU

But for me what is best

Is to focus on the wonderful things of my boy

The laughter and humor… the love and the joy

My son brings such magic

Despite a few shakes

It’s time that his mother

Stops making mistakes

It’s time she stop writing about what cannot change

But go back to words that can show off her range

I’m missing my Silverstein … my Suess … and my Dahl

I’m missing the passionate fun of it all

So while my work can be archived …

And soon there will be a book

My blogging is going to have a new look

It will focus on poetry … on humor … on laughter

Let the sunshine explode from floor to the rafters

May I write some new things

To the delight of your kids

To bring out the fun that we sometimes keep hid

I hope that you’ll join me on the new path I travel

It will take a wee bit for this all to unravel

But when it does, I’ll pass on the new link

I’d sure love your readership

What do you think?

52 Weeks of TS: Week 22

EDITOR’S NOTE: Every Tuesday, noted Tourette Syndrome advocate Troye Evers shares his “52 Weeks of TS” blog journal with the TSParentsOnline community. In cased you missed any of the first 21 weeks, you can read them here. For more information about Troye, please click on his name or visit his website.

Pinch pinch rub, Pinch pinch rub

Every once in a while I might do a tug

All day to the night, Until it feels right

Over and over, that’s the way that it goes,

That’s the way that it goes, with the tic of my nose

The loud clap of your hands, Brings the twitch of my neck

And the honking of horns, Brings the jerk in my back

I think there’s a new tic starting off,

Besides my hum, I now have a cough

I never reveal the real me,

I hide and I hide, suppressions my key

Behind closed doors, I jerk and I twitch.

This life with TS is really a bitch

But I write down my story and help people out,

There’s something to say, what our life is about.

My TS is no BS, my doctor gave me a dx

So stop staring and mocking, and pointing at me

Come ask me some info, education is the key.

Hello hello hello everyone. So I thought I’d start this week off a little different, with my little attempt at poetry. Whether its good or bad, it’s all about expression. We have to open our mouths and express ourselves. I’m always trying to educate someone about TS, but I’m also constantly learning more and more about my TS and myself.

Continue reading

TS Awareness Month: “Mockingbird,” a poem by my daughter

For TS Awareness Month this year, instead of sharing TS facts, I have posted a video, blog post or poem showing the effects on NON AWARENESS on my Facebook page. Today, I chose to share a poem by my daughter Ally that she wrote back when she was first diagnosed. It was about the bullying she received mainly from the staff at her school. Please share her poem if you like.


The penetrating shrieks it makes,
traps you in a horrible game of risk.
It’s toxic acid, spitefulness,
punches a disintegrating hole of misery
in your heart.

They travel in flocks, looking for victims to mock and tease.
Mocking, mocking always teasing.
Soon they chase you out of safety,
crushing your self confidence
leaving you to cower in fear.

You set sail as an outcast in the ocean of loneliness.
Hoping your Guardian Angel will lift you up once more.

‘Twas the night before TicMas…

fb …And all through the house
My Stinker was squeaking
A bit like a mouse

It wasn’t too bad, but it did make me pause
That I’d sure like a gift from dear old Santa Clause
One for myself cause’ I’m selfish that way

But one also for you to arrive Christmas Day
Just a wee little something for us all to calm down
When Tourettes takes our smiles and turns them to frowns

You see, you folk are e-mailing me all over the place
That your kids’ tics are growing at quite a fast pace
You’re all freaking out

“Could it be sugar or Grinches
That’s causing the coughs and the crazy nose pinches?”
And while some of its diet and perhaps lack of sleep

The truth is that none of this might cause the squeaks
It could just be that tics go up and go down
And who knows the darn reason those darn tics hang around!

So Dear Santa, it’s Andrea… help me to feel fine
For my son feels content
Help me, too, fall in line!

Bring me a present that might not mean healing
But instead comes with grace and with thanks and good feeling
For my boy – he’s so big now – oh, my, how he’s grown

Give it 10 years and I’ll be here alone
I don’t want to be thinking, “I missed this great season…
…I was freaked out and stressed. I blame tics for the reason!”

No, let me remember that all kids have stuff
It’s our love and our compassion
that must be enough

So to moms out there struggling, with all of my might
Take my virtual hugs
It’ll all be alright!

Poetry: “Tourettes In Slow Motion”

Wishing to be invisible, I freeze as I sit.
Freeze into a place, a place I don’t fit.

I tense, I try to fight this urge,
Like fighting against a power surge.

The build up so great, nothing can stop,
This feeling inside me, its time, I pop.

Eyes in the back of my head gaze around,
Gazing to see reactions of that sound.

Wishing to be invisible, I freeze as I sit.
Sinking into a bottomless pit.

This is the process, the process in slow motion.
Over and over, I fight these emotions.

Copyright @ 2010 (Emma Stent)

Poetry: “Mocking Bird”

This is a poem my daughter wrote back when she was 10 in 5th grade. It was written at a time when she was facing a lot of bullying, mainly from the principal at her school. The ending lines talks about a guardian angel. To me that angel comes in the form of NJCTS


The penetrating shrieks it makes, traps you in a horrible game of risk.
It’s toxic acid, spitefulness punches a disintegrating hole of misery
in your heart.
They travel in flocks, looking for victims to mock and tease.
Mocking, mocking always teasing.

Soon they chase you out of safety, crushing your self confidence
leaving you to cower in fear.
You set sail as an outcast in the ocean of loneliness.
Hoping your Guardian Angel will lift you up once more.

Poetry provides a much-needed break

I am knee-deep in tic writing, and sometimes I just need a break.

Before my mammoth adventure into book writing, I had started a collection of poems — “just because” poems based on my kids and my zany family and fueled by love of anything Seuss and Shel Silverstein.

I don’t purport to have the talent of either of these brilliant writers, but I hope to finish my collection of work nonetheless.

Here’s one I wrote. Would love to know what you are doing to keep yourself busy. Send me to your websites if you have one, even if it’s a business. I’d love know you more.

The following poem was inspired by Stink. It’s a true story about something that happened to him in first grade. He still has his pink Scooby Doo umbrella (or as we like to call it, his “parasol”), and our family couldn’t find him more weird and charming for it God bless the independent thinkers of this earth! Continue reading

Conditional Corner: A collection of fiction, poetry and artwork about OCD

Conditional Corner is a series that runs Fridays on TSParentsOnline. All stories, including this excerpt from a compilation called Check Mates, were originally published at Conditional Publications.

Check Mates is an original collection of fiction and poetry written about Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD) by the people who know best – Obsessive-Compulsives. Split between realism and stories of the beyond, there is a diverse range of styles and genres, and a mix of rage, frustration, tears, violence, pain, heartache, subversion, love, strength, metaphysics, philosophy, friendship, hope, and even a bit of humor. And maybe – just maybe – it will knock away a few stereotypes.

checkmateshomepageimage2red2The following is a poem called “Imagine” that was written by a girl named Kristin from New Jersey who was 15 when she penned it. She says her religion is what gets her through the tough times. She is also the youngest contributor in “Check Mates” and provides a glimpse of just how much OCD can hurt at such an early age.

If, after reading this sample, you are interested in finding out more about Check Mates, other samples are available here, or you can purchase it at Amazon.com. We hope you enjoy the poem “Imagine!” Continue reading

Poetry: “As I Began To Love Myself”

“As I Began to Love Myself” – Self-Love Poem by Charlie Chaplin

As I began to love myself I found that anguish and emotional suffering are only warning signs that I was living against my own truth. Today, I know, this is “AUTHENTICITY”.

As I began to love myself I understood how much it can offend somebody As I try to force my desires on this person, even though I knew the time was not right and the person was not ready for it, and even though this person was me. Today I call it “RESPECT”.

As I began to love myself I stopped craving for a different life, and I could see that everything that surrounded me was inviting me to grow. Today I call it “MATURITY”.

As I began to love myself I understood that at any circumstance, I am in the right place at the right time, and everything happens at the exactly right moment. So I could be calm. Today I call it “SELF-CONFIDENCE”.

As I began to love myself I quit steeling my own time, and I stopped designing huge projects for the future. Today, I only do what brings me joy and happiness, things I love to do and that make my heart cheer, and I do them in my own way and in my own rhythm. Today I call it “SIMPLICITY”.

As I began to love myself I freed myself of anything that is no good for my health – food, people, things, situations, and everything that drew me down and away from myself. At first I called this attitude a healthy egoism. Today I know it is “LOVE OF ONESELF”.

As I began to love myself I quit trying to always be right, and ever since I was wrong less of the time. Today I discovered that is “MODESTY”.

As I began to love myself I refused to go on living in the past and worry about the future. Now, I only live for the moment, where EVERYTHING is happening. Today I live each day, day by day, and I call it “FULFILLMENT”.

As I began to love myself I recognized that my mind can disturb me and it can make me sick. But As I connected it to my heart, my mind became a valuable ally. Today I call this connection “WISDOM OF THE HEART”.

We no longer need to fear arguments, confrontations or any kind of problems with ourselves or others. Even stars collide, and out of their crashing new worlds are born.Today I know THAT IS “LIFE”!

Read more from me on my Embracing Difference page on Facebook.